Shatter
by Honestly
Summary: "Break him," said Aizen, and Grimmjow would later honestly report to him that Kurosaki Ichigo had never screamed louder in his entire life. Arrancar arc, takes place immediately following Grimmjow and Ichigo's final battle.
1. The Display

**Title: **Shatter

**Universe:** Bleach

**Pairing:** Grimmjow/Ichigo

**Disclaimer:** Kubo Tite owns Bleach

**A/N:** Takes place immediately after Ichigo and Grimmjow's final battle.

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><p>A fist slammed into his stomach, sending sickening spasms of pain through Ichigo's already abused body. Maniacal laughter echoed behind him as he doubled over, coughing and gasping for air. He fought to gain some traction on the slippery ground, struggling hard enough to jangle the short ceiling chain that confined his arms.<p>

"_What do you think you're doing, attacking a guy who can't even move?"_

_The pressure of the enormous scythe increased for a moment, then eased as Nnoitra yanked his weapon back. "How pathetic, Grimmjow!" He sneered, looking down at the prone Arrancar lying in the sand. "Not only did you get your ass kicked, now you're letting your opponent defend you!"_

_Ichigo glanced back to see if Grimmjow was still alive. The Arrancar was bleeding profusely, but his vivid, unreadable eyes stared back at the teenager. _

_Nnorita's weapon dropped blade-first into the sand with a muffled thump. "Fortunately for you, shinigami," the Espada said, looking over Ichigo's tattered form with contempt, "I'm not here today to fight you." _

_His eerie smile widened as he stared down the shinigami. "Aizen-sama sent me here today with a message."_

A hand fisted in his hair, pulling his head back so roughly that Ichigo felt a stab of pain shoot through his scalp. The room smelled like blood and terror. "Those prideful eyes," the Arrancar in front of him spat. "You still think you're better than me, shinigami?" Another blow, this time to the jaw, and Ichigo winced in pain as he felt strands of his hair being ripped out.

"_What you don't know," continued Nnoitra, "is that Soul Society has sent four of their captains into Hueco Mundo to join the fight. Quite the party in here, isn't it?" _

"_You're here to protect your friends, aren't you, shinigami?" Nnoitra was walking in a slow circle around him now, his giant scythe hefted easily over one shoulder. "That's what you want the most. For her," a contemptuous finger jab in Inoue's direction, "and all your other freaky companions to walk out of here safe and sound."_

"_Kurosaki-kun…" wavered Inoue, from behind him, but she silenced when he held up a reassuring hand._

_Brown eyes met black eyes without hesitation. "What are you saying?"_

"_Aizen-sama is willing to let all of the intruders leave Hueco Mundo safely, on one condition." A long, pale finger extended in Ichigo's direction. "You will take her place as a prisoner in Hueco Mundo. For seven days and seven nights."_

The cuffs on his wrists had chafed them until they bled, and the dangling chain from the ceiling was dead center in the middle of the room, short enough that it kept Ichigo on the very tips of his toes. Without any leverage, he couldn't even use his legs to defend himself. Hands fisted in the front of his shirt, lifting him off the ground.

"Aizen-sama said we could do _whatever we wanted _to you. So I guess I don't have to hold back, huh?"

"_One week. That's all Aizen-sama is requesting. Pretty generous, is it not?"_

_Before he could say anything, he felt Inoue's small hands catching at his arm "No! Please, Kurosaki-kun, you've done enough!" Tears rolled down her face. "I'm the one who selfishly agreed to come here. Please!"_

_Ichigo gently removed her hands. "Inoue, it's going to be okay." _

_Chad was gravely injured, and he could barely feel Rukia's reiatsu. Ishida and Renji were no doubt battered, and he himself wasn't in great shape from his fight with Grimmjow. His last fight with Ulquiorra had almost left him dead, and Ulquiorra was only the fourth Espada. And now he'd drawn his friends from Soul Society into the mess as well._

_Nnoitra eyed him beadily. "I would consider this proposal very carefully if I were you. It is an unusually generous offer. If you decide not to take it, you can count on the fact that Soul Society will be receiving your dismembered corpse, sent to them in pieces, and the bodies of everyone who came to help you."_

_One week? He'd be a fool to pass this up. He knew it was too good to be true, that there had to be a trap, but he'd sworn to protect his friends at all costs. That was the sole purpose of his mission to Hueco Mundo. And if this offer allowed him to do that, if it allowed him to buy time for his friends to escape, for Soul Society to prepare, then he didn't care what happened to him._

"_I accept."_

The hands which had seized him released him just as abruptly, sending painful shocks through Ichigo's bound arms as the chain went abruptly taut under his weight. The young Arrancar in front of him was licking the blood off of his knuckles, still eyeing him. He had a jagged scar that ran sideways down his face, splitting his round face in half, and crazed eyes that were so pale Ichigo could almost see through them.

"You're not bad-looking, for shinigami scum. How 'bout I rough you up in a different kind of way?"

_Things had moved pretty quickly after that. One by one, different Espada arrived, with the limp bodies of Ichigo's friends in tow. Ulquiorra brought in Rukia, who was barely breathing, and Chad, who limped in with both his arms covered in blood. Ishida and Renji were next, dragged in bound and gagged by Szayel, both barely conscious. _

_The four captains were still at the portal, having been briefed by Gin of the negotiation and agreement. Kenpachi looked disappointed, Byakuya shell-shocked. Mayuri and Unohana just looked at Ichigo, their faces impassive._

_Before they left, to Ichigo's surprise, Byakuya had tried to address him. "Kurosaki," he'd said, looking at him with those serious grey eyes. "Think about what you're doing. This is exactly what Aizen wants." _

_We can't win without you, those grey eyes said. _

_Ichigo couldn't bring himself to meet his gaze. I know. _

The Arrancar licked a slow trail of blood and sweat off the side his neck, making Ichigo flinch back in revulsion.

He'd been stripped of his zanpaktou immediately afterwards, and then tossed in a sterile cell for a while. Two Arrancar in standard uniforms eventually came back and led him out, blindfolded and hands bound, through an interminable stretch of hallway.

He'd known what he was getting himself into. He'd known the minute he'd heard Aizen announce that the he was to be "displayed" in the South Wing jail.

"The shinigami will be chained, and the door will be unlocked for any visitors who wish to meet with him. Free to use him as you wish," the ex-captain had said to the massive gathering of low- to high-ranked Arrancars, and the dark amusement in his brown eyes left Ichigo in little doubt as to what the ex-captain meant. He could only pray that Inoue had not been subject to the same treatment.

His bruised ribs ached steadily, a painful reminder of the group of the lower-ranked Arrancar who had visited his cell earlier and had thought it fun to use the captured shinigami as a punching bag, kicking him viciously back and forth between the three of them until he was coughing blood on the floor. He supposed he was lucky though, that they hadn't thought to do worse. The arsenal of tools and questionable objects racked on the walls made it clear that there was a multitude of options his tormenters could choose to subject him to.

This blonde-haired punk was his ninth visitor so far, and the vilest one yet. He was now yanking Ichigo's black uniform open at the top, wrapping his other arm around Ichigo's waist and pressing his lower body against the Ichigo so that the teenager could feel the Arrancar's hardness against his thigh.

A vein pulsed in Ichigo's forehead as the Arrancar rubbed lewdly against him. Stretching his hands as far up as he could and ignoring the shooting pain in his shoulders, he hooked his fingers as best he could through the links in his ceiling chain and, bracing his foot against the Arrancar's hip for leverage, kicked the low-ranking Arrancar so hard that the Arrancar lost his grip on Ichigo's uniform and slammed into the wall of the cell. In the midst of the commotion, neither of them heard the cell door opening.

"You bastard," the blonde choked out, clutching his bruised face, a small _cero_ smoking in one fist of his tightly clenched hand. "I'm going to take my time with you. I'll make you pa-"

A strong hand suddenly seized the young Arrancar's arm, forcing his hand in the general vicinity of his own face. Then blonde gave a muffled cry just before his own _cero_ detonated against his face, leaving him shaken and smoking, but still alive. He quickly wished he was dead, though, when he realized who had assaulted him.

"Having ourselves a good time, are we?" snarled Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, before picking up the Arrancar and slamming him so hard into the wall that the blonde went rag-doll limp.

Ichigo just stared. He hadn't even noticed Grimmjow come in. He quickly snapped back to his senses, however, when the blonde Arrancar started emitting an unnatural, high-pitched whine, twitching pathetically amid the Sexta Espada's pummeling fists. "Grimmjow, enough! I think you broke him."

The Espada doesn't even glance his way, but his fists slow, and eventually stop before he drop-kicks the unconscious Arrancar out into the hallway, slamming the cell door after him. Grimmjow turns back around, surveying Ichigo before walking in a slow, tight circle around the teenager.

Ichigo mentally fidgets. He wishes people would stop circling him like that, though he supposed it's a predatory thing. The tall Arrancar eventually stops in front of him, hands shoved in his pockets. "You look like shit," he said, finally.

Ichigo couldn't help smiling a little, at that. "You're all right?" It felt strange, this uneasy alliance, but comforting all the same, an unexpected anchor in rough seas.

Grimmjow's eyes trail over Ichigo's body, taking in his torn clothing, bruised form, and exhausted eyes, before stopping on Ichigo's wrists, chafed bloody by the chain and pinioned painfully above his head. Ichigo eyes the Arrancar warily as Grimmjow moves closer to him, and then Ichigo jerks violently in alarm when he feels Grimmjow's hands grip his ass. "Grimmjow," he said, looking at the Arrancar in sudden terror.

"Chill the fuck out," snapped Grimmjow, lifting him easily off the ground. "Legs."

Ichigo hesitated, but realizing that it would hurt like a bitch (and probably dislocate his arms) if Grimmjow got impatient and dropped him, he did as he was told and wrapped his legs around Grimmjow's waist. He couldn't help a quiet gasp of relief as the strain on his shoulders eased and pressure on his bloodied wrists eased.

Unfortunately, his legs were also tired from sprinting across Hucedo Mundo, and he winced as he realized he was slowly slipping down Grimmjow's body. Strong arms slid around him, one underneath him and one around his back, pressing him to Grimmjow's chest so that he was leaning on the arrancar instead of trying to support his own weight with his legs.

There was an awkward silence.

"Grimmjow…?" Ichigo said in confusion to the wall behind Grimmjow's head.

"Shut the fuck up."

The cell door clanged again, and Ichigo twisted around to see a heavily-built, squat Arrancar step through the door, leading in a disinterested-looking female Arrancar. "Just sit there and watch, Yuu-chan," the Arrancar was saying, flexing his muscles in a way he hoped was impressive. "You can watch me beat this shinigami scum to a pulp!"

The girl, red-headed and busty, was eyeing him with no small degree of contempt, but she suddenly snapped to attention when she saw Grimmjow. "Jaegerjaques-sama!" She exclaimed, her eyes lighting up.

Her companion, on the other hand, seemed to wilt instantly. "Sexta-sama…" He stammered.

"Fuck off!" Grimmjow snarled, and they did.

Ichigo loses track of time as they stand there, pressed together almost intimately within the cold cell. Ichigo tried politely to make small talk at one point, but Grimmjow shot him a look of such confusion and annoyance that he gives up.

Ichigo's thoughts race in the silence. The only sound explanation for this, he decides, is that Grimmjow is repaying him for saving his life. Even so, an absurd rush of gratitude fills his mind, along with a new respect for Grimmjow. Just a few hours in this hellhole, and he was already beginning to understand why the Espada were as cynical and savage as they were. In this hellish, hollow-eat-hollow world, it took the most bloodthirsty and ruthless to rise to the top, and this world was all Grimmjow had ever known. It took someone extraordinary to hold onto a code of honor, however twisted, in this dark place. In the past few hours, Ichigo had experienced the depravity of even the lower-ranked Arrancars firsthand.

And yet, here Grimmjow was. Ichigo shifted a little uncertainly, wondering how much Grimmjow was risking by helping him here. Knowing how much Aizen was betting on this little experiment of his, he probably wouldn't look to kindly on one of his own, especially a high-ranked Espada, aiding the enemy.

He pulled back a little to look at Grimmjow's face. The Arrancar shot him an irritated look, but said nothing.

"Grimmjow," said Ichigo, and then he couldn't think of any words that could make the Espada understand what he was thinking. He leaned forward, tentatively pressing his forehead against the top of Grimmjow's head, ignoring the Arrancar's startled inhale. "Thank you." The Arrancar smelled like cold, clean air, like the wildness of a desolate winter night.

Pressed as closely together as they were, he could feel every muscle in the Arrancar's body go tense. Grimmjow pulled away from him, his unnatural electric eyes searching Ichigo's face as the teenager blinked at him, unsure if Grimmjow was going to kick his ass for this transgression. There was a short silence, and then Grimmjow leaned in and captured his mouth in a slow, scorching kiss that set fire to every nerve in his body.

Then just as suddenly as it started, Grimmjow dropped him, turning on his heel and storming out of the room. The cell door slammed hard enough to send echoes through the room.

Ichigo sucked in short, shallow breaths of air, fighting nausea as his wrists screamed from the sudden drop. His lips tingled.

Well, that was new.


	2. The Combat

**Title:** Shatter  
><strong><br>Universe:** Bleach

**Pairing:** Grimmjow/Ichigo

**Disclaimer:** Kubo Tite owns Bleach

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><p>The catcalls and obscene comments that follow him as Ulquiorra brusquely marches him down the giant hall leaves Ichigo in no doubt as to what the purpose of this event really was. As nausea churns in his stomach, he can only grit his teeth, wrap his hands helplessly around his chains and thank God that he had taken Orihime's place.<p>

His hands are still trembling from the strain of holding his weight for hours, his wrists bleeding sluggishly, but he's still in better shape than he ever could have hoped. He'd had no visitors after Grimmjow had left. It didn't seem like a coincidence.

Still, he thinks grimly as Ulquiorra shoves him up the wide white steps and onto the stage, he isn't sure he'd be able to deal with what was about to come even if he'd been at full strength. The memory of what had transpired during his brief stop in Aizen's quarters still haunts him.

"_Well, Kurosaki-kun," Aizen said, smiling warmly at him. "Have a cup of tea." The thought of drinking any beverage prepared by this man sickened him, but the warmth of the teacup was too much to resist. He shifted his shackled hands and wrapped his fingers around the cup, breathing in the scent of tea, a scent of home that was too nostalgic and too wrong within this icy, dead place. _

_He'd been yanked from his cell with no explanation after a few hours, and was marched straight here to Aizen's quarters by Tousen, flanked by two faceless guards. And now he was sitting here, casually having tea with the most wanted man in Seireitei. It was almost too much for his tired brain to bear. Ichigo knew it was dangerous to blink in front of this man, much less nap, but he was exhausted. He tried valiantly to keep his eyes open as Aizen droned on, his deep, soothing voice washing over Ichigo. _

"_To break it down for you, Kurosaki-kun, there are two parts of how new prisoners are introduced to our little society here at Hueco Mundo. The first part is the display, which you've already had the pleasure of experiencing. It was, I'm afraid to say, only a prelude. The display is a show that we hold, to pique interest and encourage…participation for the second part of our process."_

_It was the sound of Tousen shifting uneasily behind him that startled Ichigo into full alert. Out of the three traitors, Tousen was the only one who had anything the least resembling a moral compass, not that this was saying much. If it was enough to make Tousen uncomfortable, Ichigo had no doubt that this mysterious "second event", whatever it was, was unsavory to say the least. _

_He's not wrong._

The stage is more of a raised square platform in the middle of the room, flat and white. Ichigo stumbles on the last step, and Ulquoirra's apathetic hand catches the back of his collar and drags him the rest of the way to the middle of the square. He's forced to kneel. _Don't look,_ he chastises himself. _It'll only make it worse_. But he can't help tearing his gaze from the blank marble floor, and instantly wishes he hasn't. There must be hundreds of arrancar here. There isn't a single sympathetic face - their eyes are glittering in excitement, merciless.

"Here are the terms!" A hunched hollow with a zebra-skull mask is running the proceedings. "Five moons with the _strongest _in Seireitei! Please note the prisoner's wrists, ladies and gentlemen – these shackles were specially developed by our very own Octava to drain this shinigami of his spiritual power!"

The eighth Espada had taken a sample of Ichigo's reiatsu before Ichigo had gone "on display", and in less than twenty-four hours developed a pair of flexible, lightweight chains that he claimed would suppress Ichigo's spiritual energy. Ichigo suspected that this really wasn't what the shackles were doing at all – first off, he produced such a an enormous amount of spiritual energy that he doubted even a scientist of Szayel's caliber could create a pair of handcuffs that could dissipate all that. He wasn't bragging or anything, it was honestly the only thing his body was really good at, producing massive quantities of spiritual energy. What it really felt like was that the shackles were emitting a sort of sinister energy of their own, corrupting his flow of reiatsu so completely that Ichigo was unable to use it. It frightened him, how weak and drained he felt. How human he felt.

_When Aizen finished his explanation, he paused to contemplate Ichigo's pale face with satisfaction. "Kurosaki-kun, you're very young, even in terms of human years. You are still a virgin, correct?" Aizen paused to sip his tea and give him a thin-lipped smile. "The way the bidding process works is that hollows can bid individually, or in groups. I'm sure you'll find the members of our community to be eager teachers. The process of sexual initiation is a necessary one for adulthood. I've heard the ordeal is…quite excruciating, but I'm confident that once this week is up, you'll have been adequately initiated into the process. Think of it as a farewell present, from me to you."_

_This is what Aizen actually said, but what Ichigo heard was, "Yes Ichigo, you will be raped until you die."_

"Remember! Bidding can take place in groups or individually. Bidders must come to the stage to stake your claim – ultimately the winner will be decided by combat." The zebra-skulled hollow paused, letting the growing murmur of excitement wash over him. "May the strongest win!"

When Ichigo thinks back on this event during the days afterwards, he finds himself unable to recall details. The tournament is a blur of violence and horror, and blood has already begun to spill by the second battle.

The first Arrancar that steps up is a giant muscular fellow with flowing red hair and cruel, deep-set green eyes. He roars his might, and then proves his strength by smashing the jaw of one potential challenger, and breaking the legs of a second with his bare hands. He is brought down by a pair of slender twins, comely but with cruel grey eyes. They disembowel him casually with steel chains which thump loudly on the floor but which they handle as lightly as cotton string. They slice their way through a slew of different opponents, before they are cut down by a tall, lanky woman who wields deadly-looking twin scythes.

One hour in, the floor is slick with blood and Ichigo is struggling with nausea. This is not a battle - this is a slaughter. And on some level, he has started to understand that this tournament is not about lust, but power and glory. And he starts to feel a worse kind of emotion stir its way through his haze of terror and nausea – pity. For many of the low-ranking Arrancar, this is their one chance to shine in Aizen's eyes, and they will fight tooth and nail for this opportunity. They have the choice to live and die in the spotlight or be quietly slaughtered in the shadows.

A hand fisting hard in his hair yanks him back to reality. A lean-looking Arrancar with a long scar over his eye has approached the stage where Ichigo is kneeling, ignoring the battle taking place behind him in the tournament ring. "You're a pretty treat, aren't you?" He murmurs, yanking Ichigo's head back to get a good look at his face. The Arrancar's dark eyes sweep over him, and then he smiles, showing white teeth that have been filed into points. "Wait here for me, my pretty. I'm going to enjoy this, and then I'm going to enjoy you."

He turns abruptly and strides into the ring, not even bothering to wait until the battle has concluded. He draws his blade, and in two quick strikes the first opponent is dead at his feet. The second warrior is not so lucky. The scarred Arrancar cuts his feet out from under him, and after the skinny Arrancar drops his giant axe and goes sprawling onto the floor, the scarred Arrancar begins to cut him.

Ichigo closes his eyes as the hapless victim's screams of agony echo against the hard walls and high ceilings. "Stop," he hears himself say, as if from far away. Then – "STOP!" He finds himself on his feet in a fury. Every Arrancar in the room stills, watching him. The room is silent, save for the wretched gurgling of the victim on the floor.

"Enough," Ichigo snaps, breathing hard. Unconsicously, he's yanking hard at the chains constricting his wrists, heedless of the pain of his bloodied wrists. He would give anything for a sword in his hand at this moment, a scrap of his spiritual power. Aizen's smile has vanished. "Enough already! How can you stand and watch this?"

The lean Arrancar is not impressed. He flicks his wrist, and the blunt end of the chain hanging from his non-sword hand smashes against Ichigo's jaw, knocking him to the floor. "Shut up," he orders, his dark eyes narrowing. "You're a trophy. Trophies don't talk. Keep your mouth shut!"

Wincing, Ichigo runs his tongue against his teeth. He can taste the iron tang of blood, feel the hot liquid tricking down his chin. "What do you want from me, Aizen? What do you fucking want from me? Because whatever it is, I'll do it. Just let them go. I'll do it, I swear to Go –"

"Shut up." A hand grips Ichigo's head from behind and slams him hard enough against the marble floor that Ichigo lies stunned for a moment. "My turn." Ichigo glimpses a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye, and then Grimmjow Jaegerjaques strides into the ring. A low murmur goes through the crowd, and the scarred Arrancar blanches visibly. Grimmjow is half a head taller than him, and radiating feral bloodlust, his blue eyes gleaming inhumanely in the dim room and his teeth bared in an dangerous grin. Pantera dangles from his hand almost lazily.

In one swing he puts the skinny Arrancar out of his misery, and then he turns on his scarred opponent so fast that the Arrancar is barely able to get his sword up in time to defend himself.

Ichigo watches, fascinated in spite of himself. He's never actually been able to watch Grimmjow fight. It is all speed and steel and raw power. He handles Pantera effortlessly, moving with the grace of a cat. The scarred Arrancar gives it his all, swinging this sword desperately, but in one hard strike Grimmjow shears his sword off at the hilt, and in another strike takes his life. The Arrancar expires with a single groan of agony. It's over in less than a minute, and Grimmjow is casually flicking the blood off his blade.

"Is there anyone else?" Hs eyes sweep the crowd. No one moves. "IS THERE ANYONE ELSE?" A low murmur starts up from the crowd. Ichigo overhears snatches of excited gossip.

" – that's the shinigami that beat him twice, they have a history…"

" – _hates_ him, I wouldn't want to get in the way of his revenge…"

"There's no way I'm going against the Sexta, do you know how strong those Espada are? I heard he even went after Cuatro for trying to steal his prey…"

Ichigo wonders if they are right, if Grimmjow does hate him. Why else would he be in the ring? Aizen is smirking – no doubt he is aware of the past animosity between them and thinks Grimmjow is the perfect one for the job.

Grimmjow strides towards him, his face creased in his familiar smirk. Ichigo is still kneeling on the raised dais, and this puts them at perfect eye level. The Arrancar's strong fingers grip his chin, and his tongue traces almost lazily over Ichigo's torn lip, hot and wet. "Looks like you're mine, shinigami," Grimmjow almost purrs, and Ichigo can feel his heart beating so hard his entire body reverberates with the rhythm.


End file.
